I Want Crazy
by set my ships to sea
Summary: "I'm booking myself a one-way flight, I gotta see the colour in your eyes. Telling myself I'm gonna be alright without you, baby, is a waste of time." Aubrey Posen's not one for making mistakes, but taking that promotion in New York definitely was one. Now, if she has any hopes of keeping her girl, she has to do something crazy and unplanned to make things right.


"_This will be good for us. It's just temporary, not permanent."_

That overly cliché statement flashed through my mind for the tenth time that hour, bringing with it the sound of her tear-choked voice and the sight of her half-hearted smile. I bit my lip as I shoved the thought aside, forcing myself to not think about that night; the last thing I needed was to be caught crying in public.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself together and turned my attention to getting comfortable. I shifted slightly, leaning back as far as I could in the space-restricted seat, biting back an agitated grunt. No matter how hard I tried, no amount of moving could make the cloth-covered seat even remotely comfortable.

"Damn airplane seats," I muttered under my breath, my hopes of being relaxed for the next four hours of the flight now dashed. Thankfully I had managed to get the window seat—the view was fantastic, and it was a very welcomed distraction. Leaning against the side of the plane, I stifled a yawn as I watched the pale pink hues of dawn fill the sky. My eyelids felt heavy, my mind groggy from the lack of sleep; at some point I must have dozed off, because soon my head was filled with nothing but _her_.

…

"_Rebecca Elizabeth Mitchell, how many times have I told you not to leave your shoes in the middle of the doorway?" I asked loudly as I nearly tripped on them for the fifth time that week. Although I loved the tiny brunette to pieces, her messy habits were one trait I was unwilling to put up with. Letting out a frustrated groan, I picked the sneakers up and placed them in the closet where they belonged._

_I had only just straightened myself out when she stepped into the hall and leaned carefully against the wall, her hair pulled into a messy bun and her face free of cosmetics. This is when she looked the best—even _with_ those monstrous ear spikes in. When she kept her makeup off, and threw on a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, she looked so innocent—almost child-like. Definitely not like the alt girl who had made my last year of college a rocky one. I was still upset with her disregard to my cleanliness, but my anger ebbed slightly._

"_I'm sorry, Bree; I honestly meant to pick them up and put them away before you came home, but time just slipped by." She shrugged and flashed me a sheepish smile, knowing all too well that in a matter of minutes she'd be forgiven._

_Sighing softly, I gave my head a small shake, slowly walking further into the entryway. Noting that she had won the argument, Beca smiled faintly, meeting me halfway. Within a heartbeat we were wrapped in each other's arms, her face resting against my chest, my chin perched gently on the crown of her head. _

"_It's okay, hun," I mumbled softly, giving her a final squeeze before releasing my grip. Shrugging off my navy blazer, I slipped past her, heading for the staircase—I was in desperate need of a hot shower and some cozy pajamas. As usual, Beca trailed behind me, prepared to hear how my day went. That's one thing she'd gotten better at: listening without making a sarcastic comment. _

"_Another rough day at work?" she questioned as we both entered the room. She closed the door then leaned against it, her arms crossing her body to loosely hug her torso. For a moment I just stood there, admiring her—admiring everything she had done for me so far. Finally, after nearly thirty seconds, I shook my head and turned away._

"_No, today was fine," I mumbled as I worked on unbuttoning my blouse. After the first few buttons the task became difficult, my fingers trembling faintly, forcing the plastic circles through the holes rather than sliding them out. Frowning, I let out a shaky breath before sitting on the edge of the bed, my head falling to the palms of my hands._

_Slowly Beca moved to sit next to me, the mattress dipping as she sat. I felt her arm slide along my back before hooking at my waist, pulling me closer to her slender body. Instinctively I tilted my head, resting it comfortably in the space between her chin and her collarbone. _

"_What's wrong, babe?" she asked gently, her free hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on my thigh. My only response was a stifled moan as I buried my face into the crook of her neck. I could tell Beca was trying not to smile, which made my willingness to talk about it become that much lower. _

_She could tell I didn't want to talk about it—she knew, of course, that I desperately wanted to vent about it, but also recognised that, in true Posen fashion, I was much too stubborn to do so. I felt her pull away slightly and I let out a disapproving whine, but she only moved an inch, just enough room for her to place a soft kiss on my head. _

"_Come on, Bree; talk to me about it. We can't work this out if you don't tell me what it is. Don't be like freshman Beca and keep everyone out," she murmured, her fingers moving from my thigh to clasp my quivering hand in hers._

_My eyes fell to our intertwined fingers, a small sob escaping my lips. Tears brimmed my eyes as I leaned further into her embrace, the words spilling out in a faint whisper, "I'm just really afraid, Becs."_

_The words tumbled out into the air, hanging there as Beca formed a reply. I could faintly feel her jaw open then close, the gesture being repeated at least four more times. Finally, after the long pause, she responded, her voice soothing and sure, almost as if I was a small child who needed comforting. _

"_Aubrey, everything will be fine. We'll get through this, I swear." Pulling away from my grasp completely, Beca turned and faced me, cupping my face in her tender hands, forcing me to look into her stormy blue eyes. My heart clenched as I realized that soon the sight of her breathtaking gaze would only be a memory; another sob slipped out as it sunk in, but I didn't try to pull away. Leaning towards me, she rested her forehead against mine, closing her eyes—it was obvious that she was terrified, too._

"_You've given up so much for my career, Bree; it's time I make sacrifices for yours, too. This is a big honour; you're being promoted. So what if you're in New York and I'm in L.A.? We'll make it work. There'll be constant phone calls and we have Skype; no matter the time difference, whenever you have time to talk, just call me. Even if it's four in the morning on a Sunday, and everyone has to deal with crabby Beca all day, I'll pick it up. Don't be scared, Aubrey; if any couple could make it through this and come out stronger than ever, it's us."_

_My lips formed a small half-smile as I replayed Beca's speech over in my mind. When had my little alt girl—the DJ who had stolen my heart with her first mix—become so wise? Almost if on command, we both separated, our eyes grazing over the other's face. Gingerly Beca began to lean forward, her eyes asking permission. My response was a brief nod, and that was all she had needed—within seconds our lips were brushing. The kiss wasn't sloppy or rough; it was tender and slow, both of us trying to hold onto the moment longer. We both projected all the love and passion we could manage, and as we broke apart, breathless, I actually believed that what Beca had said was true._

"_Now, go shower, babe; I'll be downstairs making dinner." _

_I watched as she stood up, crossing the room to open the door. There was a suggestive sway in her hips, and I couldn't help but role my eyes—leave it to Beca to try to seduce me with food after a breakdown. She was just stepping out the doorway when I said truthfully, "I love you, Beca Mitchell. I don't know how I wound up having such a perfect girlfriend."_

_Pausing, Beca glanced over her shoulder, her signature smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I don't know either, Posen; but you damn well better keep a tight hold on me, 'cause I know plenty females who would like a taste of all this," she grinned, gesturing to herself. She wiggled her rump and winked as she spun around, exiting the room. As she reached to shut the door, she blew me a kiss, adding, "I love you, too, Aubrey Posen..." _

…

"Miss Posen? It's time to get up; we'll be at the airport in thirty minutes."

There was a firm shove against my shoulder, followed by an annoyed grunt—obviously the man beside me wasn't pleased that he had to get me up. I groaned inwardly, squirming away from him, my mind desperately trying to cling to the fading memory. It was no use, though; the high-pitched voice of the flight attendant had pulled me from the dream. Sighing, I rubbed my face, the ghost feeling of Beca's lips on mine nearly driving me mad.

"Get your shit together, Posen," I muttered under my breath. I opened my eyes—squinting against the faint golden rays that streamed through the window—and forced myself to sit up straight. My muscles cried in protest and my left arm tingled as I shook it awake; obviously sleeping in a cramped position on a cheap airplane was a horrible idea on my part.

The next thirty minutes were torturous; nothing could keep my thoughts from drifting to her—her body pressed flush against mine, sweet nothings whispered in my ear, her breath dancing along my neck and collarbone as she leaves a trail of kisses in her wake. By the time the plane landed my hands were balled into fists, my jaw clenched, as I tried to remain normal and cool.

The forty after that were spent waiting for my luggage and nervously running my shaking fingers through my hair. From the brief glance I got in the mirror earlier, I look like someone ran over me with a truck. Despite my best efforts in the washroom, I somehow had managed to make my appearance look ten times as awful, and within minutes I was speed walking from the ladies room. Now I was just sitting in a near-empty terminal, constantly glancing at my phone.

"Come on, Chloe," I mumbled, ignoring the looks the other passengers were throwing my way. I had just put down my phone after checking it for the umpteenth time when it buzzed. It took me three tries to unlock the screen, my nerves making it difficult to sit still; by the third time, though, I was biting my lip and fighting a smile as I read the message.

'_Finally here, see you soon!'_

Suddenly I was scared. All the confidence I had the entire trip here seemed to just vanish into thin air, leaving me with nothing but sweaty palms and doubtful thoughts. My hand wavered as I reached for the handle of my suitcase, my stomach fluttering and dropping. As I started to walk towards the entrance to the airport, the tapping of my heels painfully loud against the tiled floor, I fought to steady my breathing. Everything in me screamed to just turn around, hop on the next flight to New York and forget about this crazy, rushed decision. The further into the small cluster of travellers I got the stiffer and more forced my pace became, until I finally just stopped.

"Dammit," I murmured faintly, a shaky breath falling from my lips. I was so close—in a matter of minutes I'd see her, hear her voice again. My body trembled at the thought and immediately my pulse raced, warmth spreading over me. Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath, ordering my limbs to function, to keep walking.

"Come on, she should just be over here somewhere."

My eyes flew open, my grip on the suitcase handle tightening as the familiar voice reached my ears. It took only a second of searching to find her—her fiery red locks were a dead giveaway. It took a few moments for her to see me, and instantly she was smiling, her eyes filled with excitement.

Giving me her signature wink, Chloe said cheerfully, "Oh, never mind, I see her, come on!" and grabbed someone. It took a moment before the other person came into view—she was awfully short, dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater that was slightly too big—a sweater that I recognized all too well. It was obvious that she was reluctant to be here—I knew too well that getting up before eleven on any day was a struggle for her. As the bubbly redhead forced her to turn around, I couldn't help but smile, because she looked just as I remembered her.

"Chloe, seriously, where the hell is—" she had started as she searched the crowd, but as her eyes fell on me, her sentence trailed off. For a moment neither of us did anything; we just stood there, in the middle of the crowded airport, and looked at each other. Slowly her hand moved to her mouth, those gorgeous stormy blue eyes brimming with tears, and that was all it took.

Forgetting about my luggage completely, I ran to her, madly weaving my way between the swarm of bodies. Never once did I look away from her—I was never making that mistake again. My race to her seemed to take years, but in seconds we were gripping each other forcefully, salty droplets streaming down both our faces.

"Beca," I breathed into her ear, my hands feverishly tangling in her hair, my fingertips gripping onto the loose folds of the sweater she was wearing—the sweater I used to wear around the house all the time. Months of being apart made me desperate for more than just a hug—I needed her. Pulling away, I looked her up and down, making a silent commitment to memorize each curve of her body.

Beca's breathing was uneven and hitched, her eyeliner leaving black streaks along her cheeks. I laughed as I cupped her face, using my thumb to wipe away the dark smudges; my efforts actually made it worse, but in that moment, she was the most beautiful being alive.

"You're supposed to be in New York for another six months," she finally whispered, her hands gripping my waist. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she pulled me a little closer, her gaze never leaving my face.

"I left early, Becs," I murmured softly. "I couldn't stand being away from you. I don't care how great of a promotion that was—nothing's worth leaving you behind, Beca; I promise to never make that mistake again."

She let out a strangled sob, her lips parting slightly to respond, but I couldn't wait any longer. I pulled her closer to me, my hands entangling themselves into her thick auburn locks, my eyes flicking closed as our lips finally meet. Everything around us disappeared, those months spent apart now completely forgotten.

"You're crazy, Aubrey Posen," she breathes as we break apart, her head shaking slightly. Beca laughs softly as she looks up at me again, a smile dancing along her lips, her cheeks a pale rose as she recovers from her blush. "Lucky for you, Blondie, I love the crazy ones."

"Good," I murmured, pulling her closer, my hands tugging hungrily at her top. Placing another soft peck on her mouth, I grinned, promising myself that if our relationship was anything, it'd be crazy. And that would be perfect.

* * *

******Disclaimer: Well, obviously I don't own Beca, Chloe or Aubrey, because if I did, Jeca would not have happened.**

**A/N: Okay, so, this is my first shot at a Pitch Perfect one-shot. Recently I've been sucked into this fandom, and believe me, I'm loving it. For a month or so I've been reading other stories on here, and with each fanfic, my desire to write my own story grew more and more. So, here you go, my first attempt to write a Mitchsen one-shot! It was inspired by the song _I Want Crazy_ by Hunter Hayes.**

**Hope you enjoy! If you liked it, leave a review? I'd love to read what you thought about it (:**


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